amor fati
by TheLostRelic
Summary: "Roman. Greek. Lines blurring. Love sparking. Tears falling. Hearts breaking. Their relationship was an impossible contradiction, because violent delights have violent ends. But the dark truth is that Reyna relishes their moonlit passion, revels in their agony, their bittersweet love, in all of its toxic tendencies." Percy. Reyna. The pair that never was.


**amor fati**

* * *

_these violent delights have violent ends  
and in their triump die, like fire and powder  
which, as they kiss, consume_

* * *

The breeze whips her hair about carelessly, each ebony strand billowing with the wind, unrestrained. Her hands do nothing to press them down, and so they fly about in the wind. She clasps her hands in front of her body, her lithe frame heaving with every sob; each tear drop a shivering star, tumbling from the ochre oblivion of her gaze. Her lips quiver feebly, and the sea laps at her feet insistently, trying to take her away, far away.

"You're still out here?" a voice inquires, every bit as flowing as the water that caresses her feet.

Reyna quickly dries her tears, and wills her body to stop racking against the force of her sobs. For once, the one time she needs it most, her iron clad will fails her. The tears don't stop falling, her lips don't stop quivering, and her body doesn't stop shaking.

"G-Go away!" she shouts, her voice traitorously tremulous.

The sound of footsteps behind her tells her that he has no intention of leaving. She wishes that for once he would just obey her, and not question her. Things were hard enough for her as it was, she didn't need _him_ to go around and complicate things.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he responds, his chest touching her shoulder.

Reyna wants to jerk away from the contact, but it feels so impossibly good that she doesn't. The breeze picks up and the molecules of salt from the spray of the ocean fill her olfactory senses, taking her back to a different time, a time of goddesses and pirates and guinea pigs. She remembers a time that she and Hylla had spent on Circe's Island before the boy next to her had destroyed everything. Funnily enough, he had destroyed her life and had also allowed it to begin anew, on her own terms. Reyna doesn't know if she should swear vengeance against him or to feel indebted to him.

_And it terrifies her. _

His arms wrap gently around her slender, toned waist and she lets herself be pulled flush against him. She feels his chin rest on her shoulder, the weight strangely comforting in its presence. He sways slightly, his raven colored hair tickling her cheek, and she allows herself to be swayed by him like a piece of driftwood at sea. The smallest of smiles graces her lips at how appropriate that metaphor was; what with him being the closest living personification of the sea and her being caught in his waves of craziness on more than one occasion, Reyna would have said it made for an apt metaphor.

She sighs deeply, leaning back into him even more, exposing the length of her caramel colored neck to him, an invitation. The searing kisses he places along its length tell her that he accepts her offering, and suddenly her diminutive smile isn't quite so small. A feeling of contentment threatens to well up inside her, but she no longer possesses the strength to deny herself of it. Reyna doesn't have the strength to do much of anything anymore.

"Please... What's wrong?" he asks in between his magical kisses, and Reyna is so tempted to tell him. The concern in his voice makes her chest constrict painfully, and her lips quiver traitorously, the words lingering on the tip of her tongue against her will.

Reluctantly, she turns her head away, away from his kisses, and looks down at the sand. Her nimble feet carve an endless array of patterns into the sand, some more complex than others: a cross, a circle, an eye, a bird. However, the waves always surge forward and her carvings are wiped smooth, leaving her to begin again.

"You'll think it's stupid," she murmurs, her voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the crashing waves.

Reyna swears she can feel his grin against her skin, as infectious and endearing as always, and it makes her shiver pleasurably. "I don't know, I'm not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I'm sure it's not as stupid as what I think about," he coaxes, his voice lilting in its delivery. Reyna always thought his voice sounded melodic, lyrical almost.

_And it terrifies her. _

Everything about Percy Jackson terrifies her. His infectious, disarmingly endearing smiles frighten her. His innocent, orphic eyes frighten her. His windswept, raven hair frightens her. Everything about him terrifies her. _He_ terrified _her, _a daughter of Bellona, terrified by the likes of a son of Neptune - such things were unheard of.

"You're making it kind of hard for me to hate you," Reyna whispers, still swaying in his grasp, her purple dress rippling in the nighttime breeze.

Percy's chuckles rumble deep within his stomach, vibrating against her frame. "Why do you want to hate me?" he breathes, his maddeningly rich voice teasing her.

"Because I don't want to love you," Reyna responds, her voice no louder than the breeze.

Percy stays strangely silent, a first in Reyna's book. Instead, his hand finds hers and massages tiny, electrifying circles against the back of her skin. Her breath hitches, and her eyes drift half open, feeling heavily lidded. Jason was a son of Jupiter, but his touch is no where near as electrifying as Percy's, no where near as vibrantly sensual.

_And it terrifies her. _

"You don't want to, or you can't?" Percy asks, his gentle fingers continuing their maddeningly pleasurable circuit. His every touch burned her flesh, branding it with his fingerprints, his mark.

Reyna shifts uncomfortably, wanting to run away, but unable to. How was she supposed to explain that she lived in perpetual fear, fear that tormented her every single day of her life? How was she supposed to tell him that it was scary how fast, how far, how deeply she had fallen for him? How was she supposed to explain that violent delights had violent ends? How? How? How?

For a long time, the pair remains silent, and only the rolling waves that lick and unfurl against the shore shatter the still of their silence. Reyna turns her head, and without a word, captures his lips against her own, claiming him possessively. Percy Jackson is her one sin, her one vice, her one guilty pleasure - the one temptation that she could not resist. He is her Adonis, and she loathes herself for what she is doing to him and doing to herself.

The trip down the rabbit hole is a one-way journey, and she knows that once she falls, there will be no returning. Despite that, she can't resist him, she can't stop moving her lips in synchrony with his own. She can't stop the passionate dance that they were engaged in, a sensual tango for two, each of their hearts already tumbling down a tumultuous road that could only end with both of them lying hurt and alone. But Reyna can't stop, and she hates herself for it.

_And it terrifies her. _

The star studded night sky stands witness to the throes of their passion, the violence of their ardor. Reyna claims her raven haired Adonis as her own, cutting and tearing into his flesh with her fingers, reveling in a myriad of sensation, surrendering to him and the way he makes her feel. And despite the deep sense of completeness that she feels inside her, she has never felt more lost in her life. She has never loathed herself more than in those blissful moments where they become one, where it was impossible to distinguish where one of them began and the other ended. It is in the height of their synchrony, that Reyna feels the most separate.

Their love was a shard of lightning: fleeting, violent, and passionate. Their emotions tore at each other, desperate for a closeness that neither could truly provide the other. Reyna needed Percy, and he her, but their need was _wrong_. It was wrong because of its nature, because of _their_ natures. They should have been two incompatible souls, each too stubborn and hot-headed for their love to last, but for some reason, instead of dissolving their relationship, that only made it more satisfying and more entwined.

Their meeting was that of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, yet it was a marriage made in Elysium. Instead of colliding violently, they became something... something more, something that neither had the capacity to imagine. It didn't make it sense. It wasn't logical. They shouldn't work the way they did - they shouldn't have that synchrony between themselves, but they did.

_And it terrifies her. _

Reyna rests her head against his bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, tears streaming down her face. Because what they do every night is so wrong, and she promises herself that she will stop, for both their sake's but she never has the strength. She can't resist him, and it frustrates her so much. Reyna knows that what they have is hurting them both, but it is so sinfully good, so innocently tantalizing, she doesn't have the discipline to tear away.

Roman. Greek. Lines blurring. Love sparking. Tears falling. Hearts breaking.

Their relationship was a contradiction - an impossible contradiction. She loved him, but she also loved Jason. He loved her, but he also loved Annabeth. Reyna knew that she was taking advantage of him and his memory loss. Had he full access to his memories, his times with Annabeth, Percy wouldn't have spared her a second glance. However, she knew that Percy remembered Annabeth's name and that he shared something special with her. But he was throwing that away. Why? Because he loved her.

___And it terrifies her. _

The sea green of his eyes haunt her daily, eyes that plead, that beg for answers, answers that she will never give. Reyna knows how much her grief affects Percy, and she knows that it hurts him to sit by as she suffers, helplessly watching. However, she refuses to burden him with her own insecurities and troubles. But that never stops his eyes from looking at her the way they do, with sheer helplessness.

She cries there on the beach every night since his arrival, and he comforts and loves her every day since then.

But no matter what, she can never erase that expression, that weariness behind his gaze because only the truth can set him free, and it is the truth that Reyna will never reveal. Percy still comes every night to comfort and love her, even though each night another little part of him dies and withers away. Reyna is completely aware that she is in effect killing the only boy that has loved her, but she can't stop herself because she loves him too much to tell the truth. Because the truth wouldn't just hurt Percy, it would be his undoing.

_And it terrifies her. _

Reyna can't accept Percy's love. She doesn't feel like she deserves it. She is tearing apart two lovers because of her own needs, her own dark desires. And so, she rests, listening to the steady beat of his heart, tears streaming down her face, tears that he can't understand, tears that she can't explain. She knows that his eventual hatred of her will only be rivaled by her hatred for herself. Because when Annabeth finally finds him, and Reyna knows she will find him, she would be arrested by the sight of Reyna curled up on top of Percy's exposed frame, and it would break her.

The daughter of Athena's revenge would be swift and vicious. The daughter of Bellona would pay the price, but she would suffer willingly, knowing that she was atoning for her sins. No matter how Annabeth punished her, no matter how she tormented or debased her, it would never be enough. Because Reyna had torn something away from Annabeth that she would never get back. Annabeth would never get her Percy back, the one that she fell in love with, and that was the worst punishment in the world.

In the entire process, Reyna knew that she was only hurting everyone that was around her - she would hurt herself, Annabeth, and most of all, Percy. Poor, innocent Percy. Percy, who loved so easily, so naturally, that it was impossible not to fall for him. Percy, who had rescued Reyna from the innocent hell she lived in, only to drown her in a guilt-ridden heaven. Percy, who Reyna wanted so desperately to hate, because hate would be so much easier to comprehend than the honest love she felt for him instead. Because hate and love are flip sides of the same coin, separated by infinity, yet always within arms reach.

Because the dark truth is that Reyna relishes their moonlit passion, and she revels in their suffering, their bittersweet love. She doesn't know if that qualifies as sadism, but she knows that she accepts and covets their painful love, in all of its destructive, toxic tendencies.

_And it terrifies her. _

Her hands trace words, symbols, drawings against his skin, skin slick from their passion and grimy from the sand, yet perfect to her all the same. Every crook, every bend, every hollow of his body explored by her quivering, guilty fingers. Suns and moons, birds and fish, x's and o's - all invisible embroidery against his body. These were the marks that Reyna wanted to leave behind, an eclectic tattoo of experiences, of memories, not scars.

Reyna felt as though she was defiling a statue or a work of art.

"Please... Why do I make you sad?" Percy insists, his voice an urgent whisper.

Reyna shakes her head against his frame, shutting her eyes tightly. "I make myself sad," she breathes back, and Percy's breath hitches.

It takes her a second to realize that he's crying now as well. She hates herself more than she can bear. In New Rome, only she has the power to make the great Percy Jackson weep. And weep he does, every night on the beach, after the throes of their passion quell, and all but the sea grows silent, he weeps.

But Reyna understands.

She understands why he weeps. Because if there is anything that Reyna knows well, it's the unique tears shed only by those that can't stand the face they see in the mirror. She knows that Percy Jackson hates himself, but she also knows that it is because of her that he does.

_And it terrifies her. _

Because violent delights have violent ends. Because the synchrony and love that Reyna and Percy share in secret every night under star-studded skies, against the limitless expanse of sand on the beaches of New Rome, triumphs in moments, but it is in these moments that their love annihilates itself. Because like fire and powder, every kiss is violently passionate, every caress a death grip, every word a dagger to the heart. Because that's who they are - Reyna and Percy - two kindred spirits that should never have met, their every interaction an explosion: an explosion of passion, an explosion of emotion, an explosion of delight.

_But for all these explosive moments, for all these violent delights, they realize that as they kiss, that as they touch, that as they speak: they consume._

* * *

___Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting,_  
_Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;_


End file.
